


I Am Yours

by Sannguine



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble, Gift Fic, M/M, One Word Prompt Meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sannguine/pseuds/Sannguine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of drabbles and prompts, as well as some headcanons, mostly written for Syd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Habits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perniciousanarchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousanarchy/gifts).



"Hawke."

"Yes, my darling Fenris?"

"Have you been giving Anders money again?"

"Me? No! Why would I do that when I know he’ll go out and buy shag carpets to “decorate” the house with?? Why…. did he….” there’s a long, knowing pause on the other end of the line.

"Son of a bitch."

"Just hurry home Hawke. We need to have a chat with our pet.”

—-

"Sit down, Anders."

Defeated, Anders frowns at his two brooding lovers, who are standing on the opposite side of the room. In the middle between them was a rather large, and rather tacky shagged carpet that might’ve been designed to look like a dove years ago. Say, sixty years ago.

"Okay, okay, I’m not a child you don’t have to use such a voice. I’m sitting."

Reflectively, they both point at Anders newest addition to their household; a paisley printed lime green and hot pink chaise lounge chair that was now taking up residence in their study room just off to their side.

"Okay so one thing.” Anders interjected, before noticing their judging eyes. “Wait… is this… is this an intervention??”

They both point behind Anders, where a rather tall floor lamp with eyeballs for lights sits. It had been decorated with faded, knitted scarves that more closely resembled moss growing from a tree.

"You’re kidding me?? That was such a great bargain!"

"Anders, it’s tacky."

There’s a loud gasp from the young man, who crosses his arms defensively against his chest and pouts.

"Not to mention the shrine of antique cat paintings you’ve been collecting over the months."

"Noooooo, not the cats!?? I thought you two liked those paintings??”

When both Hawke and Fenris say nothing in response, Anders flops back into the couch with a sigh.

"Fine, fine, no more yard sale furniture."

"No more furniture period.”

"Fiiiiinnneeeee."

Fenris is the first to stalk off, walking past the couch to retreat into the study room, where the two remaining men hear a groan of disapproval. Hawke slips down onto the couch next to Anders with a small laugh, taking up his eccentric lover and holding him in a half hug.

"We love you, we promise. Just not your sense of style, alright?"

"Yeah, that’s fine, I can live with that."


	2. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misterorihara asked: "Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them." w fenhawke ಥ‿ಥ

Hawke knew that this moment would happen. He willed it away, countless times, over and over, through drinking and magic and sparring and whatever other forms he could manage to make the thoughts stop for a second.

Varric’s tab may as well be all their earning from the Dark Roads by the time Hawke stumbled out of the Hanged Man one late night, or perhaps it was early morning.

He wasn’t sure.

But he knew, ultimately, that this moment would happen. And no matter what he did to prepare for it, it wouldn’t matter. Not the sharpest of daggers, the broadest of shields or the most cunning of magics could prevent this moment from ever happening.

Fate was a tricky whore.

When Fenris gets word from his sister, all signs point that this is a trap. And Hawke knows traps when he bloody well sees one. But the elf explains that he needs to do this, wants to face Danarius once and for all.

He can’t keep running from his past if he’s to have a future with Hawke.

Hawke could never deny him anything, anyways.

So of course when it does end up being a trap, with Varania selling her brother out like any good Magister would, Fenris snaps, shifting into his Lyrium Ghost form and running through anyone that stands in his way to Danarius, and Hawke is right there beside him, covering him.

Except, when Danarius lifts his staff up, Fenris goes still, dropping his blade and falling to his knees.

"I can’t break the spell!" Anders is shouting, waving his hand around, motioning with his staff, but it sounds sounds years away, every sound, every action, every reaction delayed, and all Hawke can do is watch in horror as Danarius waves his hands above Fenris, and the lyrium in his skin glows dangerously bright.

Hawke isn’t sure if that’s him screaming, or Fenris.

"So, this is your new Master now then, ey my pet? My my, he’s kept you in such good condition for me. Oh, let me guess, he didn’t tell you about the part where he planned on giving you back to your rightful owner, now did he?"

In front of him, he watches Fenris slouch forward, be it from the spell inhibiting his movements, from doubt, or both, Hawke doesn’t know, doesn’t care, just wants to rush forward and slit Danarius’ throat where he stands, but that baritone voice that the rogue is all too familiar with speaks up after a moment of silence.

"Is it true, Hawke? Is this true.. we’re you planning to give me back all along?"

Hawke wants to scream no, of course not, he would never, but he can’t deny that part of him feels damaged because Fenris would still believe the words of Danarius over his own. After everything they had been through, Fenris would still hold doubt in his heart.

"Don’t! Don’t listen to him! Don’t you EVER listen to him Fenris, you hear me?!? I love you! Let the Maker himself hear this because I love you! Danarius cannot have you, you hear me??”

In the time it takes for Hawke’s heartfelt words to reach Fenris’ ear, he’s already felt the guilt for doubting him, and repays Hawke’s honesty by gathering up the remaining strength he posses, and with Ander’s help, breaks free from Danariu’s spell and surges forward, reaching through his former Master’s chest and clutching the still-beating heart his fingers wind around.

"You are no longer my Master, Danarius. And neither is Hawke."

When the Tevinter warrior closes his fist and reaches back, Danarius drops lifeless to his knees at Fenris’ feet, and he looks down at him with disgust.

"I am free.”


	3. Cheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dweeblyn asked: FenHawke (do it for syd yes?)

"Isabela has taught you how to cheat at cards pretty well, it seems." It’s a statement more than a question, slurred slightly by the copious amounts of stale ale and bitter beer they had all been drinking, and across from the table, Fenris grins, proud and strong while he takes another swig of his pint.

"She’s a woman after my own heart, though too bad for her it’s already been claimed." the elf eyes Hawke with a devious stare, one that is full of desire — for what — Hawke can name a few things, and the rogue can only shake his head in amused disbelief.

"Talking shit about me, are you?" with Isabela’s return with another round, she settles herself down at the end of the table, and Hawke deals her in. The three of them carry on, and while it’s odd for the rest of the group to be missing on their nights set aside for Wicked Grace, Hawke can’t help but enjoy the intimacy between the three of them.

He knew how important Fenris’ relationship with Isabela was; they shared a lot of similarities; the fact that they were both familiar with slavery and being sold into something neither of them ever wanted, and if he could give Fenris the piece of mind that he wasn’t about to deny him simple pleasure of life — friends, for instance, then he was more than eager to let his lover dabble in whatever his heart contented.

"Hawke, your turn."

With their combined voices dragging him face first from his reverie, he glances down at his cards and then back at the table, playing something that will result in him loosing the hand, but he doesn’t care, he has no qualms paying for their next round of poison.

Instead, he takes a moment to appreciate his company, really appreciate it; two of his favorite people in all of Thedas, joking and drinking and carrying on with him, free from their pasts and free to live their lives how they wished, and they simply chose to remain at his side, despite the world waiting for their chaos with open arms.

Hawke was a lucky man indeed.


	4. Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misterorihara asked: talk fenhawke 2 me sammy

It had been two years since Hawke helped liberate the Mages in Kirkwall, and despite the growing infamy that may have brought him as he traveled across Thedas, Fenris chose to stay by his side through all of it.

He was, after all, Hawke’s. Not his property, no, perish the thought.

His days of being a slave were long gone; abolished completely the moment Hawke gave him the word to kill Danarius. The moment Hawke himself covered Fenris’ back from the flanking in the Hanged Man, the moment Hawke witnessed Fenris ripping the still beating heart from the man who wreaked havoc on his life’s chest.

But he was Hawke’s. As much as Hawke was his. This they swore countless times, again and again. When Hawke would travel to Fenris’ mansion before he reclaimed his own estate, indulging in hand to hand sparring and drinking until the morning dawn. Years later when the Amell name was seen as nobility and the Hawke estate was habitable once more, Fenris would often visit him and spend the night, making love and talking about the future Fenris never imagined having, but never staying till the next morning…

He was always gone by the time Hawke would wake up.He never stayed till morning, at least, not until Hawke’s mother had died. And by a mage, no less, which was a bitter pill to swallow for them both.

There weren’t words that Fenris could conjure in his mind, words to force past pursed lips, Tevene or otherwise, that could help ease the pain. And when words did fail him, and nothing else seemed to draw the pain away from Hawke’s heart, the one he shared so freely with Fenris, the warrior took him into his armorless arms, and hugged him tightly, ignoring the pain in his own chest when he felt Hawke, the man who was strong and diligent and pulled all of their misfit friends together through countless trials and circumstances, shudder as he cried. Open and bare and raw to the emotions he tried so hard to hide.

It was the first night, of countless more that neither of them could keep track of any longer, that Hawke woke to being embraced by Fenris in the morning, a hand stroking gently through Hawke’s soft hair, fingers caressing war-torn skin marred with scars of battles they both shared.

Fenris would lay praise to it with skin and tongue and teeth and he would thank the Maker, whom he sworn had forsaken him, for every waking moment he was gifted with that left his chest feeling something completely opposite of void and empty.

Fenris was a free man after all these years. And yet, he remained by Hawke’s side. He had sworn to Hawke, if there was a future to be had for them, he would walk into it gladly by his side.

And he did.


End file.
